


Slant

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Crossdressing Kink, Ficlet, M/M, Oral Sex, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-02 23:12:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5267462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fíli gets Dwalin’s opinion and participation in some old Erebor artifacts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slant

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for anon’s “Fili or Kili in a skirt and Thorin or Dwalin under that skirt rimming and blowing and fingering and just playing with them” prompt on [the Hobbit Kink Meme](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/8973.html?thread=19273997#t19273997).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Generally, Dwalin protects Thorin first—it’s safer: Thorin’s less coy, and he doesn’t tempt Dwalin to cross quite so many lines. But Thorin’s difficult in Erebor, and when Fíli and Kíli wander off alone to explore the vast halls they’ll inherit, Dwalin gets on their heels. 

They walk for several halls pressed close together, whispering back and forth, Dwalin about a meter behind and not particularly perturbed by their behaviour. It’s typical. He’s just there to keep an eye on them and light the torches on the way—they carry their own but don’t think to mark their trail. Another hallway, and they stop together, then abruptly split up, and Dwalin halts in his tracks, momentarily torn. He doesn’t want to spent too long deciding and let both get away, so he turns left and tells himself it’s because Fíli’s the heir. 

He knows, deep under that, that he’s always been partial to Fíli, and maybe for that very reason, he should’ve followed Kíli instead. 

Fíli picks a random room to stop at, and before he opens the door, he turns to smile and gesture Dwalin closer. Dwalin obliges and helps Fíli pull open the dusty door, partially wedged shut from too many decades of disuse. Inside the place is a mess, like most of the places they’ve uncovered, with things smashed on the floor and tossed about in general grime and surprisingly few cobwebs. Fíli lights the two sconces on either side of the door and blows out the torch he carried, resting it down on the table. Dwalin follows suit just so he can have both hands available should anything go awry. 

Fíli walks around the room eyeing different things, wiping pictures off on his sleeve and righting fallen furniture, most likely knocked about from the rumblings of the dragon. At the wardrobe, Fíli stops. The doors are still securely shut, and Fíli clicks a little lock near the top to open it, to find a row of old clothes inside. They’re not as moth-eaten as Dwalin would expect. Fíli rifles through them with a broad grin, occasionally pulling pieces out a little way to look at.

The only thing he pulls off the rack is a skirt. It’s a short one by Dwarven standards, yellow to match Fíli’s golden mane, with a silver pattern embroidered on the bottom to give it a spark of interest. Who Fíli would take it for, Dwalin has no idea—as far as Dwalin knows, they have no members of their party partial to skirts. To Dwalin’s surprise, Fíli holds it against himself. With a tame smile that says he isn’t joking for once, he asks, “What do you think?”

Dwalin can feel his cheeks stain a faint pink at the tips, because if Fíli’s asking what Dwalin thinks he is, of course it would look good on Fíli. Everything does. Hard not to, with a body like that. But of course, Dwalin would never say any of those things, so he just shrugs and grunts, “It’s a skirt.”

Fíli snorts but doesn’t press it. Instead, he walks to the chair he’s pushed back against the desk, and he drapes the skirt over it. Then he lifts one leg to the chair and starts unfastening his boot.

Dwalin’s eyebrows knit together, confused, while Fíli pulls off one boot, then the next. Then he sticks his thumbs into the waistband of his trousers, and Dwalin opens his mouth to protest, but it’s too late—Fíli slides his trousers right down his legs and steps out of them. It leaves him completely bare, his tunic brushing his hips but not quite covering the full length of his shaft and the peak of his tight, pink balls hanging beneath. Half of Fíli’s rump is exposed, all of his shapely legs on display, creamy skin dusted with tawny hair. Dwalin can’t seem to close his mouth. Fíli pulls the skirt off the chair and steps into it, then hikes it up his waist, hiding the view from his knees to crotch again. 

Dwalin still needs a few seconds to recover, and Fíli doesn’t give him them. Fíli plucks at the hem and turns to the side, arching his body taut, and asks, sultrier, “Come on, Dwalin. What do you think?”

Dwalin thinks he’s never seen anything so scrumptious, but he’s still not about to say that. Fíli looks insanely cute, but hot besides, more tantalizing than anything Dwalin deserves to witness. He’s always had inappropriate thoughts about Durins, but now the fantasies are impossible to stop, and they come flooding into his head in a lewd, writhing mass that begs him to run forward and slam Fíli to the floor. Instead, he clears his throat and tightly answers, “You look very respectable.”

Fíli lets out a little laugh, and those always make Dwalin’s heart twitch. Fíli has a way of sounding so carefree, so pure and sweet, but somehow still naughty and knowing underneath. He takes a step closer, murmuring, “Dwalin, _come on_ , we’re alone.” Another step, and Dwalin wants to back up but can’t seem to make his legs move. “We have Erebor back. I’m not just a grown man, but a _prince_.” Two more steps and Fíli’s right before Dwalin, less than an arm’s length away. “You can’t possibly think I’m still too innocent to play with.” Another, and that’s it, they’re touching, Fíli’s bare feet between Dwalin’s heavy boots and Fíli’s hands landing lightly on his arms. Fíli’s eyes pierce right into Dwalin and hold him, demanding a reply.

Dwalin doesn’t have one. He holds fast, now unsure that this is real—it must be some sick dream seeped in through dragon sickness. He lusted after his own treasure too long, and now it’s threatening to overwhelm him. But Fíli feels _so real_ , and Fíli, seeming to realize that Dwalin won’t admit a thing, leans up to whispers right over Dwalin’s lips, “Dwalin, sun of Fundin, as your prince, I _order_ you to do what you like with the heir you’re so eager to protect.”

An order, on the other hand, is something Dwalin can get behind. He resists for maybe half a second before he drops to his knees, surprisingly even himself—he thought he would’ve gone for Fíli’s mouth, but that might be something he can get another time—this is _special_. He reaches out to grab Fíli’s hips, so _soft_ in the silken skirt, and he traces the shape of them, hungrily eyeing the front, slightly tented. It grows under his gaze, and then the skirt shifts. Fíli bends over him and gathers it up, lifts and holds it out, giving Dwalin plenty of room to duck underneath. 

He does exactly that. Knowing what’s underneath has snapped his resolve. Sure enough, he finds Fíli’s stout cock waiting for him, thick around the middle and lifted off his stones, pink and purled around the veiled tip. Dwalin first touches Fíli’s ankles, then runs up Fíli’s legs, curving around his calves and the back of his knees and up along his inner thighs, and Fíli’s makes a lewd noise from above that’s so erotic Dwalin can’t stand it. He opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue, giving the head of Fíli’s cock a quick swipe. Fíli gasps, hips instantly bucking forward. Dwalin quickly latches onto his thighs and holds him back. A bit of shifting and Dwalin’s firmly gripping Fíli in place with just one hand and can use the other to latch onto Fíli’s base, so he can better point his prize. 

Dwalin licks the head again, presses his tongue into the little hole and swirls, then hurriedly laps down the sides to get it wet. His hand pumps up, using his spit to ease the way, so he can catch on the foreskin and drag it back, revealing more and more. The skirt’s light enough for the firelight to flicker through, and though it isn’t the best to see by, Dwalin already has more than he would’ve ever asked for. Maybe if they get interrupted, the skirt will give some semblance of protection, an excuse, he can pull out and say he was just fixing something on it or whatever, but then again, who would believe it—who wouldn’t want to be under Fíli’s skirt? Dwalin locks his head suddenly around the tip and sucks _hard_ , moaning himself at the ragged cry Fíli lets out.

Trembling in his grip, Fíli’s hips squirm against him, and Dwalin, now holding Fíli’s cock in his mouth, diverts both hands to feel up Fíli’s legs again. This time he plays all over Fíli’s thighs, rubbing at the sides and twisting around, palms exploring the supple curve of Fíli’s ass. He palms both cheeks, then digs his fingers into them and squeezes, and one of Fíli’s hands presses at his head through the fabric, Fíli groaning loudly. Dwalin can’t help a little grin around his mouthful—it’s been a long time, but it seems he hasn’t lost his touch. 

With his fingers dug tight into Fíli’s plush rear, Dwalin shoves his mouth down, taking more and more of Fíli’s cock, right until it hits the back of his throat. There he stops, catches his breath, drinks in Fíli’s wild moan, and pulls back, pressing forward again. He sets in to bobbing up and down, sucking on the way, until Fíli manages to break free of his grip and thrust forward into his mouth. 

Dwalin pulls off instantly, spluttering, and Fíli groans, “No, sorry—please, don’t stop, _Dwalin_ —”

“Calm down, lad,” Dwalin growls right back, leaning in to nip at Fíli’s thigh and earn a sharp squeal. “I wasn’t finished...”

He can see he’s going to need to control Fíli’s hips better though, and he stuffs two fingers into his mouth for it, quickly wetting them. Fíli whines, trying to rub against his face, but Dwalin waits until he’s good and ready; he has large hands, and he doesn’t want to hurt his prince. Only when his fingers are soaking does he pull them out and reach back between Fíli’s legs, tracing his crack. Fíli mewls happily, bucking into the touch. Dwalin rubs down Fíli’s crack until he finds the tiny hole he’s looking for, and then he pushes against it, his other hand delaying in the front to cup Fíli’s balls. He rolls them about his palm and gives a little tug when Fíli tries to buck again. Fíli whimpers and stops, clearly trying to be good, but Dwalin can feel his hips straining. Dwalin places a chaste kiss to the head of Fíli’s cock and pops his finger inside Fíli’s puckered hole. 

Fíli cries out again, now thrusting backwards, trying to impale himself more on Dwalin’s thick digit, but Dwalin’s careful and moves too—he won’t feed Fíli more than his ass can take. Dwalin strokes at Fíli’s velvety walls, enjoying the tightness and the heat, and pops back onto Fíli’s dick, mainly to distract himself from dirty thoughts about what it would feel like to _fuck Fíli’s tight ass_.

This, he can tell himself, is still serving his prince. He’s not defiling Fíli, just doing what Fíli asked, and he’s still fully clothed himself, only using his hands and mouth. He’s hard as a rock in his own trousers but doesn’t bother to touch himself—he doesn’t want to come back down from this high, because he knows how wrong it is and doesn’t want to dwell on that. And he doesn’t want to waste any time or touch. He focuses all his attention on _Fíli_ , explores and memorizes as much of Fíli’s body as he can, inhales Fíli’s musky scent and sucks at Fíli’s salty taste and kneads Fíli’s warm flesh, drinking in Fíli’s cries. Dwalin takes Fíli’s cock right down his throat, until his nose is burrowing into the golden curls around Fíli’s base, where he sucks hard and pulls back again. 

He fingers Fíli and sucks at Fíli as long as he can before adding a second finger, still careful and trying to stretch Fíli for it. He rubs around the whole time, pushing in and out, stroking and trying to stimulate, trying to make Fíli _scream_ —sure enough, with two fingers, he finds the right spot. One little jab, and Fíli shrieks at the top of his lungs, bucking back, then forward into Dwalin’s mouth, and Dwalin tries to go lax for it and does it again and again, giving Fíli every last bit of pleasure he deserves. 

Fíli drops the skirt when he comes. He screams and shoves Dwalin’s skull forward, wildly humping Dwalin’s lips, and Dwalin holds him in tight and finger-fucks him through it, milking it all out. Fíli trembles and cries and spills jet after jet, until there’s nothing left and he’s just weakly rutting into Dwalin’s face. Dwalin swallows every drop he’s given. He’s always wanted a mouthful of Durin seed, and it certainly doesn’t disappoint. He just wishes Fíli’s cock weren’t so far down his throat so he could _taste_ it.

Perhaps next time. He desperately hopes there’s a next time. When Fíli’s finished, he stays still for a few seconds, and Dwalin pulls off his flagging cock. When Dwalin withdraws his fingers, Fíli collapses. The skirt slips right over Dwalin’s head, Fíli landing down in his lap, and Dwalin catches him and pulls him close. It’s the first chance he gets to really look at Fíli’s face. It’s flushed pink, eyes heavy-lidded and thickly dilated, pink lips panting through his golden mustache. He’s always pretty, but he’s never looked _so beautiful_. It’s all Dwalin can do not to kiss him hard and push him down to go again. 

Dwalin’s still hard. But he’s the Durins’ first and himself second. He just holds Fíli, trying to memorize the sight. Then a shout echoes through the open door: “When do I get a turn?”

Recognizing Kíli’s voice, Dwalin can feel his face overheating. He quickly wipes his mouth off on his sleeve, but he’s already red, and by the time he looks around, it’s too late. There’s no escape.

Kíli marches right into the room, wearing nothing but a wide array of golden necklaces. Grinning like a cat, he saunters up to ask, “’Found these in a room down the hall—what do you think?”

Dwalin groans and waits patiently as Fíli climbs out of his lap, Kíli coming closer. He can’t say a thing, because he’s busy soaking in the fact that this is easily the best day of his life.


End file.
